


Autumntales

by pinkcatflower



Category: Produce 101 (TV), UNIQ (Band), UP10TION, X1 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Autumn, Eventual Smut, M/M, Magic, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-10 02:37:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19898494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkcatflower/pseuds/pinkcatflower
Summary: Seungyoun is hoping to get back home in time for the All Hallows celebrations. The last thing he needs is a city noble tagging along and slowing him down. Unfortunately, just like Hangyul often tells him, he's too soft.





	Autumntales

This was a very, very bad idea, Seungyoun decides, wiping his sword on the grass and putting it back in the sheath. Hell, he knew it getting involved would only cause him trouble and yet he still did it. Hangyul often tells him he's too kind for this profession and it's not bad luck but kindness that gets him in trouble.

Seungyoun still thinks he's pretty fucking unlucky.

He glances at the dead bodies— he got three of them, but the others ran away with whatever they found in the cart, and the horses. His horse as well. Seungyoun is glad that at least it's a horse he borrowed in the city and not his Rosie— she's safe back at home.

The carter is dead as well, killed by the bandits before Seungyoun managed to get there. Poor old man, he thinks briefly, but that's all the sympathy he manages to conjure. He's seen too much pointless death in his life and he doesn't even know the guy. He wonders what he was transporting, and if it was actually valuable. Even if it was, though, it probably wasn't worth dying for.

He circles the cart slowly, wondering what to do next, and then he hears a quiet moan. Shit— someone's still there, he sees him now, curled up behind a broken wheel.

"Hey, are you alright?"

The person slowly sits up, holding a hand to their head. It's a man— but a ridiculously pretty one. Young, but not a teenager anymore, probably around Seungyoun’s age. Seungyoun frowns, staring at him— he looks strangely familiar, like he's seen him before. And Seungyoun would remember a face like this, but somehow he can't put his finger on it. Where did he see him?

The man looks up at him, tenses, then reaches for something at his side— but he doesn't find it. Seungyoun glances in that direction— there's a dagger lying in the grass a few feet from them.

"Are you going to kill me?" The man asks, strangely calm for such a question.

Seungyoun snorts. " I just saved you. Do I look like a bandit to you?"

The stranger looks him up and down and frowns. Seungyoun pouts, feeling offended— his clothes aren't anything fancy, for sure, they're practical but neat. And he takes pretty good care of himself. The bandits he fought just now, he could smell them— and he'd rather forget that smell.

"I'm a mercenary," he sighs. "I'm not gonna hurt you. Can you stand?" He offers a hand to the stranger, but he doesn't take it. Instead he watches Seungyoun warily as he slowly rises to his feet, using the cart behind him to support himself with one hand. With the other, Seungyoun notices he's clutching a pouch to his chest, like he expects Seungyoun to rip it out of his hands and run away. Seungyoun resists the urge to roll his eyes; sure, you can never be too careful on the road, but the guy should have saved that wariness for the bandits that attacked him.

"Are you all right?" he asks once the man is standing straight. He's not tall, significantly shorter than Seungyoun. He's dressed in clothes that look expensive, fashionable, but not well suit for travelling. Seungyoun would expect better from someone so cautious— but even though he wasn't stupid enough to travel unarmed, it seems this guy is just another rich spoiled city brat.

"My head hurts," he says, rubbing his forehead.

"You're lucky it's just your head."

"What happened?" he asks, looking around. He frowns at the dead bodies, and then his face falls when he spots the carter. "Oh, no. Is he... "

"Dead. You were attacked by bandits. I'm guessing you hit your head when the cart toppled over. You got lucky, the bandits probably assumed you were already dead—" he cuts off, shocked into silence as he sees the man’s eyes well up with tears. He’s clearly struggling to stay composed, still looking at the old man's body in silence.

"I'm— I'm sorry," Seungyoun says softly, his heart sinking. "Was he family?"

"No.” Despite the tears in his eyes, the guy sounds calm. “I didn't really know him. But he was kind to me."

Seungyoun stares. He doesn't remember the last time he saw someone cry for a stranger. He's both amazed and slightly exasperated. This guy must've had an easy life. Despite that, Seungyoun feels the need to console him. He doesn't know how to, though. It's not a situation he can relate to in any way.

"Hey, don't cry," he says awkwardly.

"I'm not crying," the stranger protests, wiping his eyes. He sounds about as convincing as Seungyoun's nephew after falling and scrapping his knee. Seungyoun thinks what else to say, comes up with nothing, and sighs. He walks a few steps to the left and picks up the dagger. He frowns, looking at it. He expected something poor quality, or just a regular weapon, but the dagger is surprisingly light, and heavy at the same time. And Seungyoun can feel it, the delicate thrumming of magic beneath the steel. There are symbols engraved in the handle, ones he can't understand despite his rather vast knowledge of magic.

Where did that guy get that?

He doesn't ask. It's none of his business and if it's not a job he's getting paid for then the less he knows the better. He hands the dagger to the guy; he accepts it, sliding it into his boot. 

"Um, thank you," he says. "You helped, right?" He looks at the bandits’ bodies.

Seungyoun shrugs. "Spare the thanks, I fucked up. They got away with the horses. I was on my way to Bellande, and it's four days on foot." He scowls. He hopes he can make it home for All Hallow's. His family will be disappointed if he doesn't. "You just go back to Yenner. If you go now, you should make it before nightfall."

"I can't go back." The man's voice is shaky but he sounds determined. Seungyoun doesn't ask why; he doesn't want to know. "I need to get to Bellande."

"Do you know the way?"

"If I just follow the main road…"

Seungyoun snorts. A rich looking noble travelling the main road alone. Doesn't sound like a bad idea at all.

"If you wanna get killed, go ahead." Or worse than killed, he thinks, considering how pretty the man is. What kind of reality does this guy live in? Spoiled prince reality, clearly.

All Seungyoun gets in response is a puzzled look; he sighs.

"You can come with me." He already knows he's going to regret this but he can't just leave the guy to die. Fuck his life, Hangyul is so right about him. He's way too soft. "That is, if you can keep up. I'm not gonna let you slow me down."

"I won't slow you down," the man replies, tone steady, his fingers tightening around the pouch he's holding. Seungyoun fleetingly wonders what's in there, but he's definitely not curious enough to ask. It's probably money or valuables. Or something sentimental. Maybe a love letter and a gift or something like that. Maybe the spoiled prince has an equally spoiled sweetheart in Bellande and he's running away from home to be with her. Seungyoun has seen people do unbelievably stupid shit for what they think is love. Only once they get in serious trouble, they realize it wasn't love, just an infatuation, and definitely not worth it.

He shakes his head and looks away. It's really none of his business.

"Let's go. We only have a few hours before sunset, we better get moving."

———

It's just as Seungyoun expected— the man is not used to travelling on foot. He has trouble following Seungyoun through the forest; he stumbles over tree roots, his clothes keep getting caught on branches, and while he manages to keep up with Seungyoun at first, after a few hours it becomes apparent how difficult it is for him to keep going. He doesn't complain, though, even though Seungyoun fully expects him to— he knows city people just love complaining. One time he loses his balance as they walk down the slope and ends up sliding down on his butt. He sits on the ground for a moment after that, panting, his eyes round. Seungyoun has to hold back laughter as he stretches his arm towards him to help him up.

To his surprise, the guy laughs first, although it's weak and he winces in pain, holding onto Seungyoun's arm as he gets back to his feet.

"For a dancer, that was pretty clumsy," he says. Seungyoun blinks at him, surprised. A dancer? The guy looks like a noble— there's no way he's part of a dancing troupe. And there is no high theatre in Yenner. Does he mean ballroom dancing? Maybe he's just especially good at it. Something rings in Seungyoun's memory as he stares at the guy but once again, he can't place it.

"What's your name?" he asks— maybe that will make him remember. If the guy was trying to be secretive about his identity, he wouldn't just casually tell Seungyoun he was a dancer, so he figures it's okay to ask.

"Wooseok." The man gives a small smile. Seungyoun catches himself thinking he's even prettier when he smiles. His name is pretty too, definitely noble sounding. Seungyoun still has no idea who he is. None of his high born employers had a son named Wooseok, as far as he knows.

Seungyoun returns the smile. "Careful there, Wooseok."

Wooseok's eyes widen a little, but Seungyoun pays it no mind— he turns on his heel and continues making his way through the forest. There's no time to waste, the sun is already setting— they need to find a suitable place to spend the night. Seungyoun might not be picky but he doesn't want to sleep on a pile of rotten leaves, branches and dead bugs. Or, worse yet, alive bugs.

"Wait." The brushwood crunches as Wooseok follows him. "You never told me your name."

"It's Seungyoun."

"Oh." Wooseok sounds a little out of breath. "I've heard of you."

Seungyoun smiles wryly. "Good things?"

There's a pause, and then, "They say you're dangerous."

Seungyoun snorts. He knows people talk, but he's not a ruthless killer. The mercenary guild in Bellande is the best in the country so he's met some truly dangerous people. He’s not like them; he’s skilled, but he doesn’t enjoy killing. Still, he does often take requests from Yenner, simply because it's near and his family town is on the way, so he supposes he has a reputation there.

"Do you believe it?" He looks over his shoulder; to his surprise, Wooseok just gives him a small smile.

"You have to be, to survive travelling alone," he says. Seungyoun has to admit he has a point. "Perhaps I’m still not dangerous enough," Wooseok adds thoughtfully.

Seungyoun huffs a laugh. Curious guy, he thinks.

They don't talk much after that. Seungyoun wouldn't mind a conversation but Wooseok is clearly too tired, barely managing to keep up. Despite what he said earlier, Seungyoun finds himself slowing down a little. He tells himself it doesn't matter; they have to stop for the night soon anyway. He firmly ignores the voice in his head once again telling him that he's too softhearted and this is exactly what always gets him in trouble.

———

"I could use a bath," Wooseok sighs as he munches on the dried meat Seungyoun shared with him. Not smart, since he only took enough food for one person to last two days, but it's not like he can let the guy starve. He'll have to hunt for something tomorrow. "I feel dirty."

Seungyoun laughs at that, adding some wood to the fire. "There's a stream nearby, don't hold back."

Wooseok pouts, shivering at the mere idea. "I meant a nice, warm bath." Seungyoun should find his whining annoying but for some reason, he thinks it's endearing. Wooseok doesn't sound upset, just sleepy and pouty and well— it is kind of cute. Since when does he find spoiled city people cute?

They ended up stopping at a clearing Seungyoun was familiar with; he travelled through these woods often enough. It should be safe even at this time of the year when nights are longer and the chances to encounter something unpleasant in the forest are much higher.

He hands Wooseok a waterskin. "You can have your bath once we reach the city."

Wooseok accepts it gratefully.

"How do you handle it? Travelling so often," he asks after a few sips. He traps his arms around his legs and props his chin on top of his knees. He looks a bit like a kid waiting for a bedtime story.

"It's not so bad on horseback. There are inns, you know. It gets pretty tough in winter but," Seungyoun shrugs, "you get used to it."

Wooseok scrunches his nose up. "To feeling dirty and sore all the time?" It sounds incredulous but not insulting, and Seungyoun just laughs good-naturedly.

"I'd prefer to take a bath right now, too. Trust me, I like being clean as much as you do."

"I figured." Wooseok says. His eyes are drooping, his whole body sagging with weariness. It's admirable, Seungyoun thinks, how he was able not show it too much until now. He might be a city boy, but he's pretty strong willed. "You smell nice," the words are soft, quiet, but they reach Seungyoun clearly over the gentle crackling of the fire.

The comment takes him by surprise; he gives Wooseok a searching look, but Wooseok’s eyes are fixed on the flames. He looks even more ethereal in the firelight, despite the dirt and scratches he attained on the way. His expressive eyes, pretty nose and full lips… The feeling that Seungyoun has seen him before is stronger now. He wonders if it has anything to do with the nighttime and the flames…

He frowns, trying his best to remember but once again, he comes up with nothing. He could just ask Wooseok, but Wooseok only said he'd heard of Seungyoun, he never mentioned meeting him before. Maybe Seungyoun saw him somewhere in passing. But if it was so brief, why does he feel like he should remember?

He gives up on trying to figure it out eventually; he's too tired.

"Let's sleep," he says, lying down and trying to make himself comfortable on the grass. "We need to get up before sunrise."

Wooseok hums sleepily and lies down as well, as close to the fire as possible, curling into a ball to protect himself from the cold. Seungyoun wishes he could offer him something to keep him warm but the only blanket he had was stolen along with his horse. The temperature is bearable for him, but his clothes are thicker and he's used to sleeping outside.

He can only hope Wooseok doesn't get sick— that would make reaching Bellande in three days nearly impossible.

———

Wooseok is not only very quiet the next day— he also doesn't smile, he barely looks up from the ground as they make their way through the forest. Before Seungyoun drifted off, he heard Wooseok tossing and turning, clearly unable to fall asleep despite how tired he probably was. Not too surprising— for someone used to sleeping in a warm bed it might be impossible to rest in such conditions. But even putting the sleepiness aside, the man looks downright exhausted, and he keeps wincing in pain. His muscles must be sore from the exertion. Despite that, he doesn't complain or ask Seungyoun to slow down.

Still, Seungyoun feels bad for him. He can't exactly make a longer stop to rest if he wants to reach his hometown before All Hallow's, but he wishes he could lift Wooseok’s spirits somehow. He sighs, glancing at Wooseok's tired face— it's strange, he barely knows him but he's already fond of him.

Around noon, they reach the stream. It's wider than Seungyoun remembers, likely due to the recent rainfalls. It's still crossable, though. Beyond it the road is going to become tougher as the forest begins to stretch over mountains.

Seungyoun decides to stop for a moment. He busies himself with replenishing their water supply; Wooseok crouches by the stream, drinking straight from it, then he washes his face. Once he straightens up, he brushes his hair away from his face, running his fingers through the damp strands. Seungyoun catches himself staring; tired or not, Wooseok is unquestionably gorgeous. And then he notices something— a mark under Wooseok's left eye, a small, gold, crescent moon.

And then he remembers.

He hasn't noticed the mark before. Did Wooseok cover it with makeup or was it the smudges of dirt on his face? Seungyoun isn't sure. It could be that Wooseok hid it on purpose. In the end, it's a mark of those chosen by Aiona, the Harvest Goddess.

He saw Wooseok this June, during Midsummer celebrations in Yenner. It was at night, but the riverside marketplace was bustling with life, merchants selling street food, drinks and various trinkets, flowers, perfume meant to enhance the magic of the Midsummer night and help you find your destined partner. He remembers the scents, flowers, firewood smoke and something else, heavy and sweet, which Kookheon claimed was scent of magic. He remembers the sounds, crackling of the fire, music mixed with people's laughter.

But most of all, he remembers the dance. The stage was placed at the very center of the marketplace and it gathered a small crowd as it was said one of the temple's most beautiful dancers was to perform the ritual dance. Kookheon pulled Seungyoun through the crowd— "since we're already here we should watch the dance!", he said.

And he remembers Wooseok very well. The thin clothes, loose but still clinging to his frame. His bare feet, moving across the stage in careful steps. His pretty face— he didn't recognize him now because back then, Wooseok's hair had been red, with flowers woven into it. He had red tint on his lips and golden, sparkling blush on his cheeks. He looked so beautiful Seungyoun thought he couldn't be real. Kookheon had laughed at him for being so mesmerized: " out of all people, you show interest in a ceremonial dancer? Really into things you can't have, aren't you?"

Maybe it's a bit like that, Seungyoun thinks. He's always been a dreamer and while he makes sure to work hard towards his more realistic goals, there are some things that can't happen. He was sure he'd never see Wooseok again, unless he happens to be in Yenner during another festival.

But here Wooseok is, right in front of him; his hair is brown now, he carries a mysterious dagger and he's running away from home. And now Seungyoun has questions.

"Wooseok," he starts, but at the same time Wooseok grabs his wrist, above his glove. The hold is gentle, but Seungyoun freezes nevertheless— there's a strange sensation, like a whisper under his skin. He realizes it's the first time they've touched skin to skin and there's something—

"Something's wrong," Wooseok says, voice filled with tension. He's looking to the left, his brows furrowed, eyes darting between the trees as if he's waiting for something to jump out. Seungyoun squints his eyes, following Wooseok's gaze, but he doesn't see anything. Wooseok looks more alarmed by the second, though. "We have to go!"

"What—" Seungyoun starts, but he doesn't get to finish, Wooseok is pulling him to the right, breaking into a run. For someone who's clearly exhausted he runs fast. "What's wrong?!"

Wooseok doesn't need to answer— at the same time, a strange sound resonates behind them, similar to the sound of cloth ripping apart but much louder, and then there's the scent of smoke and that sense of wrongness, pulling at Seungyoun's nerves, unsettling the energy inside him—

A demon.

What the hell is a demon doing here in the middle of the day?

He wonders how Wooseok was able to sense it even before it appeared, then he remembers he has the mark of Aiona. The Harvest Goddess, also the Goddess of fertility, nature and balance. A demon's appearance completely messes up the energetic balance in the area.

Now Seungyoun too can sense it clearly, a benefit that comes with having some magic in your blood. And he can tell it's catching up to them. No matter how fast they run, they can't outrun it.

"We need to face it," he says, freeing his wrist from Wooseok's grip and stopping. Wooseok turns around— his eyes are round with fear.

"What is it? I can feel it, it feels so- so-"

"Wrong?" Seungyoun smiles, unsheathing his sword. "It's a demon. Stay back."

Wooseok pales considerably at the word "demon" but he doesn't leave Seungyoun's side. Instead he pulls out his dagger; his knuckles turn white as the grips it in his hand.

He can't see it— that's what makes demons most dangerous. They're invisible to human eye unless they want to be seen, in which case they usually take either horrific or alluring forms, depending on their goals. They don't have a fixed shape, at least not one humans can perceive.

Most people can't sense their presence at all, apart from sudden unexplainable feeling of agitation in more sensitive cases. But being magical allows you to clearly feel them. It's so intense it affects all his senses— maybe he's just imagining it but Seungyoun can almost see the dark energy approaching them, even though there's no clear visible proof apart from the sudden rustling of the forest leaves.

And then it hits. It's raw energy, powerful— but Seungyoun has faced a stronger one before. The problem is, this one seems electricity aligned, and Seungyoun's natural magic is fire based. He never got properly schooled so he can't control other elements.

"Shit," he hisses. He already focused his energy in his right hand and he throws a fireball at the demon before it attacks. He can't hear it, but he can feel it screech in his bones. Still, it seems mostly unarmed. Seungyoun focuses his energy on his sword this time— it bursts with flames. He hears Wooseok gasp beside him.

"Is that—"

Wooseok doesn't get to finish his question because the demon attacks— and it's aiming for him. Seungyoun curses, pushing Wooseok aside and swinging at the dark energy with his sword before it manages to hit him. It backs away, sizzling, and then— it attacks again. This time it changes course in the last second, hitting Seungyoun's side, slashing his arm. He almost loses his balance and before he can react, the demon lunges for Wooseok.

It all happens within a second. The demon jumps for him, and Wooseok, surprising Seungyoun with his quick reflexes, stabs it with his dagger. Something like that shouldn't be able to stop the demon, shouldn't be able to hurt it at all— but then the dark energy dissolves into thin air, just like that. Wooseok stands there, panting, his eyes wide, looking like he just barely avoided death— which is not far from true.

"Where is it?" he asks, turning to Seungyoun. Seungyoun tries to focus through the pain clouding his mind, but he doesn't sense anything.

"It's gone." He doesn't understand why or how, but he couldn't care less right now. They're lucky to be alive.

"You're hurt," Wooseok notices, his eyebrows drawn together in concern. Seungyoun winces, putting his hand over the cut on his arm.

"It's no big deal." He's not stupid enough to ignore wounds but the bandages and salves were stolen along with the horses.

"I can help," Wooseok says softly. He puts the dagger back into his boot then slides the pouch he's been carrying all this time off his shoulder. He opens it, showing Seungyoun its contents— bandages, potions in small vials, herbs.

Seungyoun blinks. So this is what Wooseok has been carrying all this time, what he considered so precious. Not money or valuables but rare herbs and mixtures. Some of them might sell for more than finest jewels but still, the intention is different.

Wooseok is, indeed, full of surprises.

———

"Where did you learn how to that?" Seungyoun asks, watching Wooseok apply a dark, funny smelling herbal paste to his arm.

Once again they stopped back at the riverbank, on the other side of the crossing. The forest is calm, the sunny afternoon quiet and serene; it feels like the events from a few minutes ago never occurred.

"Tend to wounds? At the temple. I wasn't just a ceremonial dancer, I learned many other things." Wooseok's lips curl into a small, proud smile. "I'm really good with herbs."

It seems Wooseok didn't mean to hide the fact that he's one of Aiona's famed dancers. Seungyoun wonders if Wooseok will answer all of his questions as easily. But it's not that he doesn't trust the guy. He’s mysterious and secretive but at the same time, there's something so genuine about him Seungyoun can't imagine someone like that could have ill intentions. If Wooseok is harboring secrets, it's probably out of cautiousness.

"So you make those mixtures yourself?"

Wooseok nods. "Most of them. The rarest ones are gifts from my teacher. I never got to travel and gather herbs myself." Wooseok seems to be finished; he wipes his fingers on the grass and screws the small paste jar back shut. There's a sense of loss after Wooseok stops touching him that Seungyoun finds almost unsettling.

Every time Wooseok's fingers brushed his skin, he got that funny, tingling sensation. It didn't feel wrong, though. It's more that it felt so right, made him feel so safe, that it scared him a little. He understands it must have something to do with Wooseok's magic— as a ceremonial dancer, he must have at least a little in his blood. But how much? Seungyoun has never touched anyone with magic in their system before, does it always feel like this?

Wooseok pulls out a bandage roll and swiftly wraps it around Seungyoun's arm with the deftness of someone who has done it countless times before. Seungyoun wonders who Wooseok has tended to during his time at the temple. City guards? Common folk?

"Not too tight?"

"It's fine."

Wooseok rips the bandage and ties it. "There. Done."

Seungyoun gives him a thankful smile. Wooseok returns it, and it's the first time Seungyoun sees him smile like that— warm and happy, much brighter than that usual secretive small of his. Wow, he's so pretty, he thinks, dumbfounded.

"I saw you, you know," he says suddenly, feeling like he needs to get it off his chest.

"Hm?" Wooseok gives him a questioning look.

"At the Midsummer fair. I saw you dance."

"Oh." Wooseok nods. "Yes, I remember you."

Seungyoun pauses, surprised. "What? You saw me?" He doesn't recall Wooseok looking at him— he did look at the crowd but specifically at him? Unlikely. "Do you usually remember everyone watching?"

Wooseok laughs. "Not at all. We're not supposed to look at people. But I remember you. I saw you just briefly, but… I don't know why but I was aware of you looking the whole time. I can't forget it." He pauses, averting his eyes. "The way you looked at me."

Seungyoun can feel his face turn hot. What is Wooseok implying? How did he look at him? God, he doesn't want to know. But he sure as hell couldn't take his eyes off Wooseok throughout the whole dance. This is embarrassing. He hopes he didn't make Wooseok uncomfortable.

"You never said anything."

Wooseok shrugs. "I didn't think it mattered. Besides, before leaving, I used a charm to avoid being recognized." He gives Seungyoun a curious glance. “But you can do magic, so I guess it’s not as effective with you.”

"Your hair was red then."

Wooseok nods, touching his hair. "That was just a coloring powder. A part of the ceremony.”

Seungyoun hums. “So… a hiding charm? Why?”

Wooseok shrugs. “I don't think my family will send anyone after me but... just in case. And to avoid questions. People recognize me, even people from other cities. And I don't want them to, not anymore."

"With your face, I think people might recognize you regardless of the charm." Seungyoun smiles. "I remembered your face, I was just confused for a while."

Wooseok tilts his head, his brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Seungyoun clears his throat, suddenly embarrassed. "Well, you're very pretty."

"Oh." Wooseok's eyes widen a little. "Thank you…?" Then, he smiles. “You’re quite a flirt, aren’t you.”

Seungyoun is blushing even harder now. “No— that’s not, that’s not how I meant it.”

Wooseok just chuckles. “Sure.”

The tension in the air is unbearable— or maybe it's just him, maybe Wooseok doesn't feel it. Still, it's awkward. He wants to ask Wooseok why he ran away, but they really should get going and he doesn't want to press. Wooseok will tell him when he wants to, he decides.

"We should get going."

Wooseok nods. "I guess it's unavoidable," he says with a sigh.

"You're tired." It's not even a question— it's obvious enough.

Wooseok shakes his head and gets back to his feet. "I'm fine." Seungyoun isn't so sure— he looks downright exhausted. But his eyes are filled with determination and Seungyoun respects that. "Let's go."

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not sure if this is good at all, would anyone be interested in reading more?


End file.
